Raw
by licensedtobuild
Summary: Something horrendous happens to Santana, and the one person she least expected is there to help her when no one else is.
1. Chapter 1

It was rough, sweaty and angry. He had Santana pinned to the icy cement and was pounding her repeatedly. Every time she screamed, he would punch her so hard that stars danced in her eyes. She felt a warm ribbon of blood snaking its way down her face. He hit her again, making the cement under her back rock nauseatingly.

"Please, please, just leave me alone," she begged, causing him to backhand her.

"Shut up, bitch. You deserve this."

Once he had completed his repulsive act of dominance, he stood up slowly, reveling at the mess of a girl he left crumpled at his feet.

"You tell anyone, and I will hunt you down, you worthless whore," he snarled, and strode quickly away, disappearing into the night.

Santana lay there, crumpled and bleeding for what felt like months. She had become one of them, the girls that were too tainted to be loved. He had stolen her fire, the light in her eyes, and there was nothing she could do to get it back. She sat up slowly, grabbing for the skirt of her Cheerios uniform a few feet away. Shit, it was completely torn down one side. Coach Sylvester was going to kill her for ripping the uniform.

She began to stagger forward, trying to get away from the alley. She had to get home and wash her blood and... his stench off of her. She got out into the street, and turned heavily, aching and feeling like the world was spinning.

She heard a car screech to a halt near her and a door slam.

"Oh my god! Santana!" Shit, she recognized the voice. She didn't need help, she just had to get home. "Santana!" he shouted, and she could hear footsteps running towards her. She shuddered involuntarily.

"Please, don't hurt me," she pleaded, stumbling forward. She felt a hand on her shoulder and she panicked. Run, just have to outrun him. "No!" she screamed, trying to pump her legs and get away. He was after her again, screaming her name; she could hear the footsteps and shouting. Out of nowhere, her knees gave out and she flew forward, landing hard on the sidewalk.

"Please. Not again," she begged, before losing consciousness.


	2. Chapter 2

Santana awoke in agonizing pain in a room far too bright to be anything but a hospital. Mr. Schuester was seated in the rocking chair at the foot of her bed, probably grading some poor losers Spanish test. She shifted her weight, sending a wave of pain up her right side. The groan she let out was enough to make her glee coach look up.

"hey," he murmured gently. He took a few cautious steps toward her and put a hand on her shoulder. She flinched at the contact, the memory of what had happened flooding back. "Santana, what happened?" he asked gently.

Santana couldn't meet his gaze, and chose to stare at the lamp in the corner. "he stole my purse. He just wouldn't stop hitting me." she heard Mr. Schue sigh pathetically, and she prayed that he was buying her story.

"Well, I have to get to class. Do you want me to call someone?" he murmured.

"No. My mom's out of town." That was a lie. Santana's mother was probably out with one of her many boyfriends. She would sometimes be gone for a week or two at a time, leaving Santana to mostly fend for herself, but no one knew that. She felt hot tears spring to her eyes and tried to fight back the wall of emotion that threatened to flood her. Everyone at McKinley thought of Santana Lopez as a badass, letting nothing faze her, but this was too much to handle. She felt a few tears leak out of her dark eyes, and fought to avoid Mr. Schue's gaze.

"Santana, it's okay to cry," he whispered as gently as he could muster with his heart breaking. "Can I… hug you?" He stared at the Latina, who finally looked back. A few seconds passed before she nodded and shifted in the bed. He sat gingerly next to her, leaned his head back and extended his arms over her narrow shoulders. She leaned her head into his chest and took a few heaving breaths. "It's okay. I'm right here. I'm not going anywhere." Santana began to shudder uncontrollably, choked sobs pouring out of her mouth. Mr. Schue merely held her and rubbed her shoulders and hair.

"I'm right here."


	3. Chapter 3

Santana awoke alone, and began to panic. She was alone in her hospital room. Her right arm was wrapped in a red cast, obviously broken, and she could feel bandages on her face. Everything that had happened the previous night came flooding back. She was reliving every thrust, every smell, every punch, and couldn't hold back the tears. Why had she been… god, she couldn't even think the word. Something like that only happened to drunk girls who dressed sluttily, right? She hadn't done that; sure she had been wearing her Cheerios uniform, but she hadn't been drunk.

_It was late, and Santana was angry, so she had decided to take a walk. Sure, it was late, but she was angry and walking always seemed to cool her off a bit. Lima Heights wasn't the safest place to be walking around, especially late at night like she was, but she felt confident and carried herself the same way she did at school. No one messed with her at school, and no one sure as hell was going to mess with her tonight. _

_She turned a corner and walked past a bar that exuded drunken men. She rolled her eyes at the catcalls and advances that the men were making towards her. A man suddenly put his hand on her back, and leaned in heavily, whispering, "Hey baby." Santana about leapt out of her skin at the advance, but slowly turned to the man._

"_Listen, slimebag, why don't you go back in that bar and finish up your drink?" she sneered at him, before turning away from him and continuing on her walk. She turned another corner, preparing to head back to her apartment. _

"_Hey!" the drunken voice shouted. "I was talking to you!" _

"_I'm not interested." Santana's heart was thumping loudly in her ribcage, but she fought to keep her body from betraying her fear. As she turned to face him, he struck out viciously with a paw-like hand, nailing her in the cheek. She stumbled backwards, and he was coming at her again, hitting her in the stomach and causing her to double over in agony._

"_You dumb slut," he shouted. "You need to learn your place." He punched her in the face again, knocking her backwards onto the sidewalk. She struggled to get up but he was holding her down and scrambling at her skirt. _

"_No! Please don't do –"He forced a hand over her mouth. With a snarling smile on his face, he forced her skirt up and began unbuttoning his pants._

"_Shut up." He began to pound into her, tearing her in half. She screamed again and again, but his hand remained over her mouth. She bit at his grubby fingers, causing him to yell out in shock and hit her again. "You bitch!" _

_He thrusted faster, but Santana was no longer there. Her body was there, her pain was there, but she was blocking it out, wishing it to be a dream. It had to be a horrible, _horrible_ dream, and she would wake up from it eventually. _

"Hey, sweetheart." A female doctor entered the room. "I'm Doctor Tayo, and I'm…" She faltered, seeing Santana sweating and shaking in the bed. She took a few steps toward the terrified Latina, making sure to keep her hands in front of her. "Santana, honey. I'm just here to examine you," she said quietly. Santana glared at the doctor, fear dripping from her eyes. "Santana, it's okay. No one's going to hurt you." The doctor touched Santana's leg, causing a jolt of fear to spike through her aching body.

"Don't touch me!" Santana shouted, jerking away from the doctor's touch.

"Santana, I promise you: I am not going to hurt you. I'm going to protect you. No one is ever going to mug you again."

Santana took a shuddering breath. "I-I-I wasn't mugged. He… r-…r-…" She couldn't even say the word. It would make it all real again. Doctor Tayo took a sharp breath, causing Santana to begin to cry.

"Santana?" the doctor said as softly as she could, her voice shaking with the pressure of what she was about to say. "Santana, were you… were you r-raped?"

The teenager in the bed, suddenly looking very small and very broken, locked her gaze at the doctor's, and nodded.


	4. Chapter 4

Doctor Tayo stepped out of the room and powerwalked over to the nurse's station a twenty feet away.

"Swanson, I need you to call the attending OB/GYN, and have her perform a rape kit on the girl in room 4316." The male nurse looked up at her in shock. "Make it emergent." He nodded at her and quickly walked down the hallway. Tayo sighed to herself, and reached for her cellphone. "Does anyone have the number of the man that brought that girl in?" Another nurse handed her a slip of paper with Mr. Schuester's number scrawled on it. The doctor stepped towards the wall out of the way of the other doctors and nurses.

Tayo took a slow breath, trying to plan what she was about to say to the man.

_Oh and by the way, in addition to being beaten senseless, the sixteen-year-old girl you brought in was ravaged in an alley by some drunk motherfucker. _

The phone rang startlingly. It was nearly 9:00 at night, and Will Schuester was preparing for a glass of wine and the bad movie of the night. He let out an exasperated sigh; it was probably his ex-wife trying to plan yet another get-together for the two of them.

"Hello?"

"Mr. Schuester, this is Dr. Tayo from St. Rita's Hospital. I'm calling about the girl you brought in yesterday." Will began to sweat nervously. Had something happened to her? She hadn't had any surgeries planned, so it would have been impossible for her to die on the table…

"How is she? Is she doing okay?"

"I think you need to come back to the hospital."

"Tonight?" He could hear the grimness in the doctor's voice and wracked his brains for something else, some other reason why he needed to return.

"Yes, sir. It's vital that you come as soon as possible."

"I'm on my way." He was out his front door within thirty seconds.

Will jogged down the hallway towards Santana's room. There were no doctors running around, so she couldn't be dying. Oh _GOD_, she was already dead! He had left her there alone and she had died with no one to care for her. His heart was racing in utter terror and he began to sprint down the hallway, nearly mowing down everyone in his path. Dr. Tayo suddenly appeared and forced him to a sliding stop. The look in her eyes was enough to tell him that something else horrendous had happened to the teenager.

Although he never would have admitted it verbally, Will cared about all his Glee kids like they were his own sons and daughters, Santana especially. Having seen the pain she had gone through over the last year, he knew that she had built herself a thick wall, but the little girl hiding behind it was just as terrified, if not more so, than the other teenagers in the group. He had seen her through multiple romances, and had tried to support her as best he could as she came to terms with her feelings about her fellow Glee Clubber, Brittany. He had seen the tears streaming down her normally frigid face as she sang _Landslide_ with Ms. Holliday and Brittany, and wanted nothing more than to hold the sobbing Santana in his arms after seeing her get so openly rejected.

Dr. Tayo gestured him to a seat outside Santana's room. As Will passed the open door, he caught a glimpse of the unconscious girl still in the bed. She was still alive, he realized with a heavy exhale of relief. He sat heavily next to the doctor, who stared directly at him.

"What I am about to tell you," Tayo began, "is something I would never wish on even my worst enemies. This is going to be difficult to hear, but I need to tell you so you can fully understand the pain that Ms. Lopez is going through." She took a heavy breath. "Santana wasn't mugged two nights ago. She was raped."

Will had to struggle to scrape his jaw from the floor. He felt like he had been hit in the chest with a baseball bat; rape? No. Not possible. This had to be some kind of cruel sick joke. His mouth wouldn't, couldn't form the syllables to respond.

"I need to call her parents to authorize a rape kit, since she is underage."

Will finally spoke. "Her mom's out of town. I don't even know if her dad is still in the picture."

"If we can't get a hold of them, you'll have to authorize, being her guardian of the hour."

Will had never expected this much responsibility from caring for a child, albeit an almost grown one. Parents should never have to deal with making decisions about their daughter after she had been… he couldn't even think the word. It made him nauseous to think that some dirtbag had found it appropriate to violate a child.

"Can I talk to her first?"

The doctor nodded. "We need a decision as soon as possible. The longer we wait, the less viable the evidence becomes."

Will nodded and stepped into Santana's room. She was still fast asleep, her head tilted to the side. He sat heavily in the chair next to her bed and placed his hand on hers, feeling tears in his eyes.

"I will never leave you, Santana. As long as I live, I will protect you." The tears oozed their way down his unshaven face. "I will never let anyone hurt you ever again. This I promise you. I will never, ever let anyone hurt –" She stirred, opening her eyes blearily, before realizing that he was sitting there.

"Mr. Schuester," she mumbled. "It's late. Shouldn't you be at –" she faltered at the heartbroken look he was giving her and the tears on his face. He wasn't speaking, but had his hand on hers. "Why are you…" She broke off, realizing that look of pity and sorrow as the face of someone who knew something awful.

She stared at him through slowly blurring eyes. Almost accusatorily, she spoke, her voice shaking.

"You know." 


	5. Chapter 5

"_You know."_

The words echoed emptily for a second. Santana couldn't believe that Doctor Whatever-Her-Name-Is had told him something so deeply personal. Her trust had been violated, and she shuddered, stifling a gasping sob. Even with her eyes squeezed shut as tightly as possible, she could hear Mr. Schuester crying quietly next to her. She dug her nails into the palms of her hands, fists balled and shaking. He couldn't know. She didn't want him, or anyone for that matter, to know the horror of what she had experienced.

"She told you?" she managed to exhale. Mr. Schuester wiped the tears from his cheeks with a handkerchief, sighed, and nodded, driving a new wave of shame and pain through Santana's broken body. She put her unwounded hand to her mouth, tears spilling over and dripping silently down her tan cheeks.

"Oh, Santana…" Mr. Schuester whispered, dropping himself onto the side of Santana's bed. He extended his arms to the broken girl, who sat up and curled herself into his chest. "You didn't do anything wrong."

"Yes, I did," she whimpered, and broke down into body-shaking sobs against the man's chest. "It's… all… my… fault."

"Santana Lopez, look at me!" Mr. Schue stated sharply, causing her to jump and stare at his face. "This is not your fault. Do you understand that? You did not do a single thing wrong. The blame for this lies on that jackass who did this to you. Okay?" She stared at him for a second, before leaning back into his chest. Mr. Schue leaned back onto the bed, still supporting Santana's upper body, and bringing her to rest on his shoulder. "Santana?" She sniffled a response. "Dr. Tayo actually called me in to act as a legal guardian for you." She tilted and looked up at him through teary and cautious eyes. He turned stare down at her." She wants to perform a rape kit."

"What? Why?"

"Santana, you were raped," Mr. Schue said blatantly, feeling the girl on his shoulder twitch noticeably at the word. "If we're going to catch this guy, we need some evidence." Santana didn't respond for a few moments. "Santana, she needs your permission to do it."

"What if I say… what if I say no?" she whimpered.

"Then he goes free," Mr. Schue said openly. "You don't do it, and he'll do this to someone else." Santana inhaled sharply. "You do it, and we can put him away for a long time. He'll never hurt anyone ever again."

"Mr. Schue," Santana asked, pausing for a moment. "W-w-what if I'm too scared?"

"It's okay to be scared… I can stay with you if you'd like…" He felt the crying girl nod into his shoulder.

"Okay, I'll do it."

X

He had held her in the bed for the entire exam, stroking her hair and whispering the most comforting things he could to her, trying distract her from the agonizing probing, swabbing and poking that was going on below the blanket shielding her bruised lower half. She was shaking uncontrollably for the entire time, biting back the flood of sobbing that was threatening to erupt from her. Once the doctors had left her room with the swabs and whatever else they had taken from the broken girl, she finally let all of the emotion out. She screamed, sobbed and pounded her good fist against Mr. Schue, the bed and whatever else was in reach. Not knowing what else to do, Mr. Schue grabbed her arms, pinning them to her sides and wrapped her in the tightest hug he could.

"It's okay, it's all over. No one is ever going to hurt you again, I promise."

"Please, Mr. Schue. I need to get _out_ of here. I can't be in this hospital anymore," she pleaded into his sweater.

"But your mom's not home…"

"I don't care! I _have_ to get out of here! Please take me home!"

"Okay, Santana. Okay. I'll take you home." He had no idea what he was going to do. He couldn't take her to her house, leaving her alone and unprotected. The only thing he could do was… "D'you wanna… stay with me for a little while? At least until your mom comes home?" She looked up at him with grateful eyes, and nodded silently.

"Okay. Let's go home."


	6. Chapter 6

It was dark by the time they arrived at the building. Will had his left arm around Santana's shoulders as he led her down the hallway to his apartment. She was walking cautiously, either painfully, nervously, or both, stepping gingerly over the threshold and into Will's living room. He turned down the hallway and opened the first door on the left.

"This'll be your room," Will said quietly, coaxing her to follow him in. It was small, with a twin bed against the far wall. The room was pretty plain, with white sheets on the bed and no photos or posters on the wall. "I know it's not much – "

"Mr. Schuester, it's perfect," Santana interjected. "I don't know how to thank you." She looked up at him gratefully before turning and sitting heavily on the bed.

"I just want to keep you safe. You can stay here as long as you need to. The, uh, bathroom's across the hall and my bedroom is next door. If you need anything at all – "

"I'll be fine," she whispered, and Will left the room, closing the door quietly behind him. He stepped into his room exhaling heavily under the weight of his emotions. He was still completely dumbstruck that some asshole had violated the broken girl in his spare room, and Will wanted revenge, even though he knew that he couldn't do anything. The bed creaked under his weight as he sat down and leaned back. What was he going to tell the Glee Club when Santana came back with a broken arm, six stitches in her cheek, a black eye and absolute terror in her torn apart heart?

X

Santana lay in Mr. Schuester's spare bed for hours. She knew that she should feel exhausted but she couldn't bring herself to close her eyes. Every time she did, she would hear something whistle or creak outside and rocket upright in terror. Every time she closed her eyes, she was back in that alley and could feel his weight on her. Finally, no longer able to stand being in that tiny claustrophobic room, Santana gingerly opened the door and stepped out into the hallway. She was wearing a pair of his pajama pants and one of his t-shirts, since she had none of her clothes with her, and they rustled a bit as she walked out into the living room. For the first time, she realized that he had a sliding glass door that opened to a small balcony with a beautiful view into Faurot Park. She could see a crescent moon through the trees, and a slight breeze blew her hair back as she stepped onto the balcony and stood at the railing.

She looked out over the park. Mr. Schue's apartment was high up, probably the tenth floor. She could jump and it would all be over. She would never have to hurt again. Santana inhaled the crisp midnight air. It felt refreshing and cleansing to take it in and let it out. Breathing in that night air felt like the one thing she could control. God, she couldn't even control her own body anymore. Every time Mr. Schuester touched her, she flinched and fought to restrain her breathing. Her heart would begin to race and she would clench her eyes shut.

That… that drunk asshole had taken everything from her, and she didn't know if she would ever be able to be herself again. What about Brittany? Santana gasped uncontrollably. Would she ever be able to let the blonde girl, the love of her life, touch her again? A few tears welled up and dripped down her tired face. She slammed her wounded arm against the metal railing, causing it to ring and pain to shoot through her entire side. She could jump now and it would all be over.

X

Mr. Schuester woke with a start. After taking a deep breath, he began to relax. It was nearly silent in his small apartment, which meant that Santana had finally fallen asleep. He crept silently out of bed and plodded quietly to Santana's open door. He stuck his head in to find the bed completely unslept in and empty.

_Crap_. She had run. He jogged out to the living room and saw the open glass door and the silhouette standing at the railing swaying forward slightly. Mr. Schue slowed, stepped to the door and knocked on it, causing the brunette in front of him to jump and whip to face him.

"Sorry, I didn't mean to surprise you," he said, his hands up in amnesty. "Couldn't sleep?"

Santana fought back the urge to start crying again, and nodded.

"Are you scared?"

A beat, and another nod.

"Come on inside, Santana," he said, stepping onto the patio.

"I can still feel him on me, Mr. Schue. I can still feel his breath and his weight on me. He's never going to leave me alone!" she stated emphatically, a few tears oozing down her face. Mr. Schue took her in his arms and ushered her back inside. He had no clue how long she'd been out there, but he knew it was too cold to stay out there in just a t-shirt for much longer. "D'you want some chamomile tea? It always helps me relax." She nodded, her eyes trained on the coffee table. He was puttering around the kitchen, dishes clinking quietly.

"Mr. Schue?"

He stuck his head into the living room, a concerned expression on his face. "Yeah?"

"What's gonna happen when I…" She gulped. "When I go back to school?" Mr. Schue reentered the living room holding to dark mugs. She accepted hers from him and inhaled the warm vapors.

Mr. Schue placed a hand on her back. "I don't know, Santana. I don't know." He rubbed her back gently, and Santana let out a sigh.

"I'm scared, Mr. Schue."

"It's okay to be scared, but I'm not going to let anyone hurt you ever again." A small smile tugged at the corners of Santana's mouth as she took a sip of the tea and exhaled heavily. They sat in silence on the couch for a while, sipping their tea and thinking.

Mr. Schue broke the silence first. "D'you want to go back tomorrow?"

Santana paused, and finished off her tea. "I think so. I think it'll help get things, you know, back to normal… I don't know."

"You can come to my office at anytime if you get scared. You know that right?" Santana yawned, causing Mr. Schuester to chuckle. "See? The tea worked."

Santana smiled again, this time a bigger and more genuine one. "It did." They stood up together and walked back to their respective bedrooms, leaving the teacups for the next morning. Santana sat gingerly on the edge of the bed and swung her legs up, yawning again. Out of paternal instinct, Mr. Schuester grabbed the thick comforter and tucked it snugly over the brunette. He tucked her bangs back a bit, leaned down and kissed her forehead. "Sleep well, kiddo."

"Night, Mr. Schue."


	7. Chapter 7

"Hey, Santana? Time to get up, kiddo. I made pancakes." Santana flinched and pushed herself up, trying to figure out where she was. Oh yeah, Mr. Schue's apartment. "Sorry for scaring you," she heard him say apologetically. She rolled over onto her back, letting out a grunt.

"I'm coming, I'm coming." Mr. Schue left the room and closed the door, giving her a bit of privacy. She climbed out of bed and looked over at the dresser… The empty dresser that contained none of her clothes. "Mr. Schue?"

He stuck his head back through her door. "Oh, yeah, clothes… You wanna stop by your house on the way to school?" She nodded gratefully. "Alright, come have some pancakes, and we'll go.

X

Santana climbed into the passenger seat of Mr. Schue's car, stomach full of pancakes and chocolate chips. He had made a smiley face out of chocolate chips on her pancake, which she thought was silly, but really sweet. She pointed him down a few streets until they arrived in her driveway. Thankfully, her mom's car wasn't in the driveway, which meant that Santana could enter the house shame free. She stepped out of the car, and heard Mr. Schue do the same.

"You really don't have to come in," she said quietly.

"You don't need help?"

"No, I'll be quick."

She tugged the key out from under the mat and inserted it in the lock, prying the door open. Her room was down the hallway to the right. It was a tiny space, holding merely a bed, a small bookcase and a dresser. Santana walked slowly over to the dresser, and grabbed her duffel bag, cramming clothes into it. Once she had emptied her drawers (only filling her bag about halfway), she walked over to the bookcase and grabbed her iPod and her favorite books, Looking for Alaska and Will Grayson, Will Grayson. She had gotten the author, John Green's autograph in both books and treasured them. Both were worn down the spines, clearly read and reread. She placed them gently on top of the clothes in her bag, zipped it up, grabbed her school bag and walked out of the house, locking the door behind her.

"See, I told you it wouldn't take too long. Let's go." She heaved her bag into the backseat and sat heavily in the passenger seat. Thankfully, Mr. Schue didn't say anything except, "Okay."

X

The pair arrived at school about ten minutes earlier. As the car neared the parking lot, Santana could feel her heart beginning to race. She fought to keep her breathing calm, but Mr. Schuester had realized that she was beginning to panic.

"Santana, everything is going to be okay," he murmured gently, pulling into the teachers' lot. "You can do this. You are strong, and you can do this." Santana looked up at him fearfully. "You ready?" He opened the door and circled to open hers. She took a deep breath and stepped out into the bitter wind. They walked together up the sidewalk and into the high school, greeted instantly by deafening noise. Almost immediately, Dave Karofsky's voice echoed from behind her.

"Hey, dyke!" Karofsky shouted Mr. Schue could feel Santana pull instinctively closer to him. "I've got a little –" Mr. Schue whipped around, and stared at the boy, who was holding a slushie in his hand. "Oh, uh, Mr. Schuester," Karofsky mumbled.

"Karofsky, if I find out that you slushied Santana, I will personally make sure Coach Beiste cuts you from the football team!" He stated loudly, putting an arm protectively over her shoulders.

"You can't do that!" Karofsky screamed.

"Do you _really _want to try me?" Karofsky shook his head. "Good. You better be getting to class."

"Yes, sir." Karofsky quickly turned and walked back where he had come from. A small crowd had gathered in the hallway, eager to see the battle between Mr. Schue and Karofsky and they were all sorely disappointed to see it cut to an end so quickly.

"Don't you all have class?" he shouted, his voice echoing down the hall, causing them all to disperse quickly. Santana was leaning against her locker, hyperventilating in terror. He had a hand on her shoulder and was looking at her. "You okay?" She nodded, her breath slowing significantly. "Stop by my office anytime. Just breathe," he whispered encouragingly before turning away.

She stared at his back, watching him disappear, and felt herself start to panic. She was alone again. Just breathe.

X

Mr. Schue walked into the choir room and sat heavily at the piano bench. The entire club, minus Santana, was seating in their usual spots and perked up immediately at his arrival.

"Mr. Schue, where have you been?"

"Why do you look so stressed out?"

"Where's Santana?" He turned towards the small voice. Brittany Pierce was seated in the back row, looking alone without Santana sitting next to her. Mr. Schue sighed.

"Santana was… attacked a few days ago. She should be here soon. She's in pretty bad shape, so I just need you to support her." Immediately, Artie scoffed in the front row. "That includes you, Artie," Mr. Schue said angrily. "I know you're still angry with her, but we're still family in here. This is a safe space, and that's what she needs right now. Even from you, Artie. She needs our support." Artie grumbled heavily to himself and settled back in his spot, right as Santana walked in. A collective gasp exploded in the room.

"Santana!" Brittany ran down and immediately attempted to envelope her girlfriend in a hug, but the brunette stepped back, her breath quickening. "San, what's wrong?" Santana didn't speak but returned to her usual spot next to Brittany's in the back. The two sat back down together, Brittany looking very afraid, and Santana looking like she was about to explode. She felt awful for pushing Brittany away, but every touch made her sweat and shake. Brittany was staring at her, and she forced herself to look back.

"Do you need a bandaid for your face?" the blonde asked quietly. "I have a ducky bandaid in my purse if you want it…"

"No, thanks, Britt-britt," Santana whispered gently. She wanted more than anything to extend her pinky to the blonde, but the thought of such an intimate gesture sent a wave a fear through her . Finn was staring at her, and when she finally realized, she barked at him, "Oh, wanna stare at poor broken Santana? Get it out now before I hurt you!" Finn whipped his head back to Mr. Schue, terrified of the angry brunette.

"Guys," Mr. Schue spoke loudly. "Let's focus on Nationals, not Santana." Santana couldn't focus on anything but the blonde. She wanted nothing more than to let the blonde wrap her in a hug. It took everything she had to extend her pinky and wrap it around the blonde's, refusing to look at her. Brittany squeezed it gently, and Santana felt her heart relax just a little bit.

Maybe this day would be okay after all.


	8. Chapter 8

Santana and Brittany walked out of the choir room together, pinkies still linked. They had had a good practice that day; Mr. Schue had offered Santana the chance to sing a solo today (she didn't feel up to it), so instead Tina sang some slow song. Santana had been perfectly content to sing backup and dance with Brittany. It had felt relaxing to rest her head against Brittany's shoulder and sway against her. For once, she felt calm enough to let Brittany get close to her, and she was relieved. As they walked out of the choir room, Santana felt herself suddenly unable to look at the girl she loved, instead staring straight ahead. Her heart was thumping painfully in her chest, and she fought to keep her breathing under control.

"Hey, San?" Brittany whispered, leaning into Santana. "Why don't you come spend the night at my house? My mom's making hamburgers…" Her voice drifted off. Santana thought carefully about how she would respond.

"Let me check with Mr. Schue." Santana glanced to Brittany, who had straightened up. She could see the confused look in the blonde's eyes.

"Wait… Mr. Schue? Why?"

"I'm… staying with him for a little while."

"Why?" Oh here we go.

"My mom's out of town, and Mr. Schue is lending me his spare room."

"But San, your mom leaves you alone all the time..."

"Just leave it, Britt!" Santana snapped, causing Brittany to jump. "I'll check with Mr. Schue, just leave me alone!" She jerked her pinky free from Brittany's and powerwalked back down the hall. Her breath was coming in sharp ragged gasps, and tears were welling up in her brown eyes. Not again, why does this keep _happening_? She pounded on the choir room door. Thankfully, Mr. Schue was still in the reading over some sheet music. He tugged the door open and let the Latina pour herself into the room, hyperventilating and tugging on her hair.

"Santana!" he said loudly, trying to distract her and get her to focus on him. "Santana, just breath. Look at me and breath." He point at himself and stared at her. Santana squeezed her eyes shut as tightly as she could. "Just breath, in and out. In and out," he was repeating. It became a mantra for her, and she felt her heart rate and breathing slowing themselves down in time with Mr. Schue's words.

She finally calmed down enough to open her eyes. Mr. Schue was still staring at her nervously. "Santana, what happened? Did someone hurt you? Is Karofsky harassing you again?"

Santana shook her head. "I yelled at Brittany," she whispered, causing Mr. Schue to sigh heavily.

"Did she something that upset you?"

"No, of course not. Brittany doesn't even know how to insult someone." She paused. "She asked me to spend the night at her house tonight."

"Well, do you want to? We can stop at my place to get your stuff…?" He sounded pleased that it had been nothing more serious.

"No, it's okay. Brittany has a lot of my clothes at her place. So it'd be okay?"

"Sure," Mr. Schue shrugged, "as long as you feel safe there."

Santana stood and walked over to the window. The sunlight shone on her golden brown skin, and illuminated a single tear dripping over her stitched cheek. Mr. Schue followed her over, and placed an arm over her shoulder.

"There's nowhere I'd feel safer," she whispered.

X

Santana left the choir room, wiping the stream of tears that had poured down her face away. Brittany was seated against the lockers opposite the choir room, legs hugged to her chest and chin resting on her knees. She straightened up when she saw Santana walking towards her. Santana hated to admit it, but she was glad the blonde was still there. After dropping her purse next to the blonde, she sat heavily and leaned back on the lockers. Neither of them spoke for a while. Santana could feel the tears welling up in her eyes and spilling down her cheeks, and put her cast-encased arm up to her mouth. Brittany was staring at her, watching the brunette sob uncontrollably. She reached up and tried to tuck a lock of Santana's hair behind her ear, but the brunette jerked herself away and stared plainly at the wall. Her sobbing had ceased, but her chest was still heaving.

"San, what happened?" Brittany pleaded.

Santana shook her head. No, she couldn't say it out loud. It would make everything real again.

"It's okay, San. No one's going to hurt you anymore. No one will come near you ever again."

"He never left, Britt," Santana stammered. "I hear his voice. I can feel him. I see him in my nightmares." The Latina girl began to talk, unable to stop the flood of what had happened to her. Brittany merely sat in silence. As Santana got to the more graphic details, Brittany began to weep openly. As Santana described feeling his breath on her face and his weight on her body, Brittany grabbed her hand and squeezed it gently.

"Oh honey," she whimpered after Santana had stopped talking. Both of them were crying silently, tears pouring down their faces.

"I thought it would kill me," Santana whispered. "It's my fault. I pissed him off. It's all my fault. I deserved –"

"San, don't say that! You didn't do anything wrong. It is _not_ your fault." They sat together in silence for a second before Santana spoke again.

"I wish it had. Killed me." Santana's voice cracked and tears leaked anew.

"Santana." Brittany was horrified. She tried to put a hand on Santana's shoulder, but the brunette twisted herself away. "I'm so sorry." She looked up at the choir room door. Mr. Schue was staring at the duo, sobbing silently and holding a phone to his ear. "I'm not going to hurt you, I promise. I love you." Mr. Schue hung up the phone, and kept staring at them. Brittany cautiously opened her arms, allowing Santana control of what her next move was. To her relief, Santana leaned into Brittany's shoulder, and allowed herself to be tightly wrapped in the blonde girl's arms. "It's okay. I'm not going anywhere."

"Santana?" Mr. Schue's voice echoed through the empty hall causing both of them to straighten up.

"_They caught him._"


End file.
